


The Crimson Thread

by sixfarthingsless



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Canon Era, Horror, I know, M/M, im sorry, its weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixfarthingsless/pseuds/sixfarthingsless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgana captures Merlin, and makes an enchanted thread that serves as Merlin’s lifeline. When Arthur receives it anonymously, he thinks it may be a clue to getting Merlin back. But what doesn’t know is that every time it’s pulled, it causes Merlin terrible pain. If it’s unraveled, Merlin dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crimson Thread

[Based On](http://derekstilinski.tumblr.com/post/37519569167/merlin-au-morgana-captures-merlin-and-makes-an)

Merlin didn't understand why Arthur insisted on leaving before dawn for the hunt. Merlin didn't even understand why Arthur liked to hunt.

 _It’s because he’s a real man, Merlin, and real men kill defenceless animals for game_ Gwen had said with a straight face and mocked integrity.  
  
What Merlin really didn’t understand was why Arthur insisted dragging Merlin along, literally kicking and screaming, if needs be, when Merlin did bugger all when he was there. He held a crossbow, yes, but all the other Lords, Princes and King’s Merlin had ever met carried their own weapons.  
  
Merlin was sure Arthur just didn’t want Merlin having any fun without him there. Like he couldn’t lounge around enjoying free time without Arthur being there because _shock! horror!_ that Merlin have fun without the King.  
His role of Prince Consort did not have the perks that he expected.  
  
“Cheer up, Merlin, it’s not that bad,” Leon punched Merlin’s arm, as if would help, somehow. It didn’t, of course, it just made his arm hurt a little. Merlin shot him a dirty look and Leon raised his hands in peace.  
“Could be worse. Could be raining.” Gawaine shrugged, taking off as soon as he appeared.  
  
“Don’t tempt fate, Gawaine,” Merlin grumbled under his breath, narrowing his eyes at the back of Arthur’s head. Arthur didn’t, thankfully, turn into one of the things that Merlin was imagining him as. Merlin wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or not.  
  
*  
“ _Mer_ lin!” Arthur shouted as they passed through a clearing Merlin was sure they’d walked past forty times in the past three minutes. “Merlin!” He tried again. Merlin ignored him. He was angry at Arthur for making him come along when he hated hunting. He was also angry at Arthur for asking him to use his magic to kill a rather impressive stag that all the bows had missed and they were currently tracking.  
  
“What’s wrong with you, Merlin?” Arthur questioned, elbowing him in the ribs, playfully, when he got close enough.  
  
“You know what’s wrong! Now stop being such a clot pole and let me go home!” Merlin exclaimed, raising his hands in disbelief.  
  
“Ooh, touchy. What’s got in your arse?”  
  
“Certainly not you.” Merlin _hmphed_ , stamping off like a tantrumming child to join Lance who was bent over a mound of… Merlin dreaded to think. He had to admit it wasn’t the best insult against Arthur, as Arthur was stood sniggering at him from the other side of the group, but he had to say _something_!  
He could have been dignified, but he chose to be indecorous about it. It wasn’t his fault Arthur was such a prat, was it? _You were the one who married him_ his conscience helpfully supplied. He could practically see it’s overfriendly smile as it did so.  
  
“It’s heading East.” Lance chirped up, pointing in the direction he believed it was going. “Trails still fresh and that’s still warm, I’d say he was here about twenty minutes ago,” He added, peeling back part of a bush and stepping into the darkness. Everyone followed until Merlin and Gawaine were left, Gawaine holding the branches back.  
  
“After you, Your Highness,” He gestured to the path. Merlin thanked him before stepping through and into the small glade. 

                                                                                                       ***

Arthur had decided to make them stop for lunch, a measly soup prepared by Arthur’s new manservant, Oswui, and a boy they’d borrowed from the kitchens for the day. Melcon, Merlin thought his name was, but he wasn’t completely sure.  
  
Merlin had a manservant, too, Gartnait, who Merlin was kind enough to give a day off to when Arthur demanded a hunting trip.  
Merlin blanched at the taste of the soup.  
It wasn’t that Oswui was a bad cook, it was that he was a terrible cook and should never be allowed near cooking utensils.  
  
When Oswui -- and Gawaine, for that matter -- wasn’t looking, Merlin poured his share into Gawaine’s bowl, rationalising that there would be copious piles of food waiting for him when they returned to Camelot later that evening.  
  
He stood, handing over his bowl and thanking Oswui, who looked like he was going to faint at someone talking to him, then walking off over to the edge of the tree line to have a moment with his own thoughts.  
  
That, and he really needed a piss.  
  
Unlacing his breeches, Merlin began to think of ways he could end the hunt early.  
  
Sprained ankle? No, they’d just put him on a horse and tell him not to fall too far behind.  
Terrible storm? No, they’d know it was him.  
Arthur receiving a suspicious blow to the head? They’d definitely know it was him.  
  
In frustration, he sighed.  
  
“Come here often?” Arthur’s head appeared on Merlin’s left shoulder.  
“Jesus, Arthur! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  
  
“Apologising,” Arthur said as if it were obvious. Merlin tied his breeches again, turning to look at Arthur. He was looking at Merlin like he always did before Merlin was fucked into oblivion and Merlin felt expectant heat in his groin, his body shouting _yes yes yes!_ but Merlin put his hands in front of him, shaking his head.  
  
“I’m not doing this here with an audience,”

“Well we wouldn’t mind. Or I certainly wouldn’t,” Gawaine snickered, giving Merlin a wink. 

“Fuck off, Gawaine,” Arthur snarled. 

“No, I think I’m good here. I _love_ dinner and a show,”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Gawaine, get out of here!” Merlin yelled, practically feeling all his willpower draining away. They were going to do this and they were going to do this now. If Gawaine stuck around any longer, Merlin wouldn’t care if the whole of Camelot showed up to watch them fornicate against a tree.

Gawaine smirked, looking from Merlin to Arthur, and bowed, mockingly, leaving them to each other’s company.  
  
Arthur and Merlin looked at each other anticipatorily.  
This was going to be interesting.  
  
                                                                                                         ***  
  
Arthur, for reasons unknown, decided that they would give up the hunt and return to Camelot. It was nothing to do with, Merlin speculated, the fact that Merlin had said ‘no’ to screwing in a forest, demanding that only their bed would suffice.  
Maybe Merlin should have tried that in the first place.   
  
Helping Oswui and Melcon pack away their equipment, Merlin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up -- danger, very close by -- but he dismissed it as foresight of how he would be spending his evening.  
  
He risked a glance at Arthur, who was tightening the reins on his horse and discussing the quickest route back to Camelot. _Down the river front … ruins of Akbaan, maybe … west until …_ Merlin could make out, before Arthur noticed he was staring and offered Merlin the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.  
  
“H-here,” Merlin stammered, using his magic to pack everything into the travel bags. “Sorry,” He frowned at their momentary frightened expressions. He stood tall, trying to remind them he was their Prince Consort after all and he would not, ever, use his magic against them, when he realised that must be intimidating.  
  
Apologising, Merlin went to find his horse.  
A serving hand, Aedh, was holding her bridle and stroking her face, trying to keep her calm.  
  
“Something seriously spooked her, My Lord. I had to walk her round here three times before she stopped trying to run,” Aedh ruffled his russet hair, something he did when he was nervous. He’d never seen a horse as freaked as this one.  
  
Something was wrong.  
  
“What’s a matter, Old Girl?” Merlin spoke soothingly, as if he genuinely expected an answer. The horse whinnied a little, raising onto her back legs.  
  
“Hey, hey now, that’s it, there’s a good girl,” Merlin cooed, radiating calmness.  
  
“Will you be alright on her, Merlin?” Arthur questioned, concern on his face. The last time a horse spooked this bad, the rider died from his injuries three days later.  
  
“I’ll be fine! She’s alright now, see?”  
  
“Alright then, see you back in Camelot,” Arthur winked, leaning over and kissing him.  
Somehow it was decided that Arthur, Leon, Lance and Gawaine were to ride in front, and Merlin and the rest of the party were to hold back for a while. _Dangers of the road, Merlin! I don’t want you getting hurt!_ Arthur didn’t actually say it.  
It was just pragmatic implications. 

                                                                                                      ***

  
The rest of the hunting party made their way slowly back to Camelot, some on foot, some on horseback, Merlin in the centre of a circle of riders that Arthur had instructed them to form.  
Not that Merlin couldn’t hold his own if something was to actually happen.  
  
Conversation was free and easy; they were laughing at Sir Galahad’s new lady love -- struck dumb, she was! -- and at Sir Pellinore’s haircut. It was nice, Merlin thought, to actually have a conversation.  
  
“So, Pellinore, tell me, where did you get your--”  
  
“ _LOOK OUT YOUR MAJESTY_!” A panicked voice called as Merlin was knocked off his horse, who scampered for the horizon.  
Merlin stood, looking around at the people beside him, who were also horseless.  
  
One by one they dropped to their knees, then fell, lifeless, except Merlin.  
He felt dizzy, suddenly, as he tried to walk.  
And maybe it was a good idea to go to sleep for a moment. Yes, that seemed like a good idea. 

                                                                                                          ***  
  
Merlin awoke, disoriented, unable to move.  
He was staring at the trees, wanting desperately for these to be the trees outside the citadel, but it was not so. The sky appeared to darken, the air grew colder and the hairs on his body stood on end.  
  
“Hello, Merlin,” A voice called out, closer than he thought anyone would be.  
  
He moved his eyes to the left a little to find Morgana simpering back at him.  
  
“Congratulations, I hear you’re a kept man, now! My brother, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, and _you_ ,” Morgana sneered. “Merlin of Ealdor. Prince Consort. Forgive me if I’m not jumping for joy,” She spat in his face.  
  
Merlin felt it trickle down his cheek, and wanted to shout out at her, but found his voice was as bound as the rest of his body. Morgana laughed, sickeningly.  
“Speak,” She commanded, and Merlin found his voice again.  
“Morgana--what are you--why are you--” Morgana silenced him with a single gesture and he felt like he had a gag in his mouth.  
  
Morgana grinned menacingly.  
  
“Oh, Merlin. I’m afraid you’ll find out all too soon,” She bent down and touched his face, looking at him almost lovingly.  
  
“Sleep.” She demanded, and Merlin did so.  
  
                                                                                                  ***  
  
“Sire,” Leon spoke upon entering the King’s chambers.   
  
“Leon? What is it? Have you found him?” Arthur stood, knocking his chair over in the process. Leon looked to the ground, shaking his head.  
Arthur felt another pang of fear in his stomach. The party had been missing a full day. The entire hunting party vanished, with no trace.  
  
“I’ve dispatched another two patrol groups to the east and west of where we were hunting. The first patrol should return this afternoon and the men are willing to hunt through the night for Merlin, Sire,”  
  
“Yes. Alright. Yes. Call for me when the patrol arrives,”  
  
“Yes, Sire,” Leon bowed before turning and leaving. He stopped outside the door and allowed himself a moment for his heart to chill his blood completely.  
  
An entire hunting company didn’t just disappear without a trace.  
  
                                                                                                ***

_Creek, creek, creek._

“Hm, yes, that’s tight enough. He won’t escape that,”.

  
                                                                                                ***

Merlin awoke to Morgana grinning down at him at full height.  
  
He was sat, that much he knew, but his body didn’t seem very co-operative. He looked down to find his arms bound by rope and metal, his legs with the same, and his middle secured with… he wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew if he was to get his arms and legs free, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. Morgana circled him, stroking his face, before she stood in front of him, staring at him like she’d already won.  
  
“Good morning, Merlin, how are you today?” She smiled, almost innocently, before it turned sour. She lifted food to his face, but he turned away, refusing to eat anything that Morgana made. It was laced with poison for sure.  
“Eat!” She commanded and Merlin was suddenly very hungry for whatever Morgana was going to feed him. “Good,” She smirked, stroking him on the head as Merlin swallowed whatever she placed in his mouth, “Good boy,”.  
  
                                                                                                         ***  
  
“Drink!” Morgana said and Merlin was suddenly thirsty, gulping down whatever Morgana was pouring into his mouth. He didn’t like the after taste of anything she fed him.  
  
It made his mouth taste like wool and left a tickling sensation in his throat.  
He wasn’t sure how many times she’d woken him up to make him eat, or make him drink, or to just gloat that she had him and Arthur didn’t. He wasn’t sure how many days he’d been there, but it felt like he’d been there over a week. Perhaps three.  
  
She forced him to eat again, and again, stroking his cheek, smiling proudly. _Yes_. Yes, this was all going to plan.  
  
“ _Sleep_.” Merlin did without question.  
                                                                                                    ***  
“Wake!” She demanded. Merlin woke. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that he would do whatever she asked of him, and he couldn’t talk back, or cry out, as long as she said not to.  
  
“Eat.” She grinned, joy etched onto her face. “Good, _good_ , you’re almost ready,” She clapped, stroking his head, as she always did, and, like always, he leant into the touch because Morgana had asked him to one day.  
  
She wanted him like a dog.  
  
Merlin longed to ask ‘ _ready for what_?’ but he wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer.

                                                                                                          ***  
  
Merlin woke, groggy, to find himself lying down, with Morgana writhing on top of him, naked, calling out his name. He was tied down, securely, his hands over his head, and she was laughing gleefully.  
  
Merlin couldn’t move, couldn’t throw her off, couldn’t tell her _stop, get off, I don’t want this_.  
  
And she knew that as she smiled wickedly at him.  
  
 _Arthur will never have this_ she uttered, demanding that Merlin slept.  
  
His eyes closed and his head lulled.  
  
                                                                                                       ***  
  
“ _Wake_ ,” She snarled, spitting on Merlin’s face, not an hour later.  
He was in a different position the last time he woke.  
  
“Yes, yes, you’re ready, aren’t you?” She touched his face, allowing her hand to linger. She slapped him, then stroked the red, burning skin.  
  
Merlin looking around the room, noticing he was almost vertical, tied tight. Even his magic couldn’t undo it. It hurt him to try.  
  
Morgana took away her hand and almost skipped over to the table, humming to herself, casting a look over her shoulder and laughing.  
  
“Open your mouth,”  
  
She picked up a clamp like tool and made her way over to Merlin, simpering, a look of pure evil in her face.  
She put the tool to his face, rubbing it up and down his cheek.  
  
“Speak,” She whispered, but Merlin found himself so afraid that works failed him.  
His mouth still hung open and she grabbed his chin, shoving the tool into his mouth and down into his throat.  
  
He felt himself choking, gagging, thrashing against his restraints. Morgana pulled the tool back, clamping his mouth together, and letting him just breathe for a moment.  
  
“What the _fuck_? What the fuck was that?” He demanded, breathing heavily. Proudly, she held up a small ball of thread, showcasing it.  
  
Pendragon red in colour, she eyed it like it was the most important thing in the world.  
  
“Thread,” She replied, simply.  
  
“But what--what--you just--”  
  
“Oh _hush_!” She laughed, sniggering even more when she realised Merlin couldn’t speak unless she said so.  
  
 _Oh, to be in control_! she thought.  
  
If she was Queen of Camelot, she’d keep him like this everyday. With a collar like the _dogs_ , she grinned at the thought. Morgana walked over to him, holding the thread in front of her, smiling at it, triumphantly.  
  
“Have you ever had your life hanging by a single thread?” She whispered, giggling manically, then her face turned serious and her voice became low.  
“Your life is just that, and it rests in his hands, Merlin. And he doesn’t even know! Let’s see how good it feels when your beloved Arthur is slowly killing you,”

She took it from the clamp and Merlin could feel it, feel the press on his very being as she held it, as she toyed with it, rolling it in her hands. An unpleasant, itching pain panged in the very core of his being. “Unravel it and you die. Poor old _Mer_ l _in_!”  
  
“Shall we test it out?” Morgana whispered into his ear, laughing.  
“Speak.” She said as she pulled at the thread.  
  
Merlin’s eyes widened, his body twisting and convulsing in pain, screaming out as Morgana pulled harder and harder at the thread. Morgana snickered, walking round the room as if Merlin was not convolving and wailing.  
  
Finally, she eased up, putting it into a box as Merlin cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. His chest rose and fell quickly, painfully and he found himself unable to move the rest of him again.  
  
“Now we know it definitely works, don’t we, Merlin?” Morgana shot him an innocent smile before darting out of the room.  
  
                                                                                                   ***  
  
Arthur sat in his chambers, forlorn and blue, mind racing.  
Merlin was out there; he couldn’t just disappear.  
  
And Arthur simply refused to believe that Merlin could be d… could be d… he just wasn’t. He was alive. Arthur could _feel_ it. He just couldn’t feel where he was.  
  
“My Lord, this came for you.” Oswui spoke, handing Arthur a small box and an envelope.  
  
Arthur ripped open the envelope; it could be from Merlin!  
  
 _To aid you in your search for Merlin_. The letter said.  
  
Arthur turned it about three times, trying to find anything else, such as a name before deciding to try the box.  
  
He opened it with a click noise and another letter was waiting for him:  
  
 _Pull me and tug me when you’re feeling blue,_  
 _Or completely unravel me, that would be fun, too!_  
  
Arthur tipped the box upside down, dropping a few centimetres of wrapped thread into his hand.  
Arthur looked at it, holding it gently in his hands, looking at Oswui’s confused face.  
  
Arthur thought about tugging it, but changed his mind, placing it back in the box.  
Oswui cleaned round it, offering to throw it away, but Arthur shook his head, asking for Oswui to accompany him to see his Knights and the council.  
  
The Knights promised to help, no matter the cost, and the council were torn.

A few hours later, Arthur lay trying to sleep, bed beside him cold in Merlin’s absence and he felt lonely and blue. Which was when the thread came into his head. _Pull me and tug me when you’re feeling blue_ he thought. He needed Merlin, more than Merlin needed him. Merlin was everything to him.  
Without Merlin, he thought, quite dramatically, life meant _nothing_.  
  
He pealed back the covers, padded across the room and retrieved the box.  
  
Getting back into bed, he opened the box and began to pull and tug at the thread, feeling instantly better already.  
  
                                                                                                           ***  
  
Merlin lay on the cold floor, writhing. Arthur was pulling the string, and it was killing Merlin. It felt like his entire being was being split in two. He cried out, unable the stifle a scream any longer, and he heard Morgana’s wicked laugh.  
  
                                                                                                           ***  
  
Gaius made his way, solemnly, to Arthur’s chambers. The whole castle seemed to be darker now that Merlin was gone.  
  
Gaius had searched every book he had for the possibility of people just disappearing without a trace. Sorcery, was all he knew of, but why would a sorcerer want to hurt Merlin? Magic was no longer outlawed; what reason did they have for doing this?  
  
Money, Gaius supposed. Power was a possibility. But if the sorcerer wanted money and power, why did they leave no clues as to who they were? There was no ransom demanded, there was no news and there was, still, no Merlin.  
Sighing, Gaius knocked on the door.  
  
“Enter,” Arthur’s voice rang out. Gaius opened the door, stepped in, and took in the appearance of the dishevelled King who’s head hung low. In his hands, he pulled at a crimson thread and the thrum of magic sang out in the air.  
  
“You asked to see me, My Lord?”  
  
“Ah, yes, sit, sit. Wine?” Arthur offered, placing down the thread on top of the table. It was the thread, Gaius decided, that was ever so full of magic.  
Gaius took the tumbler of elderberry wine and sipped quietly, waiting for his King to speak. Gaius noticed the dark bags underneath Arthur’s eyes and added ‘sleeping draught’ to a mental list of all the things he needed to do.  
  
Find Merlin was number one, of course.  
  
“I seek your council regarding Merlin,” Arthur finally spoke.  
  
“Sire?”  
  
“Do I continue to double my efforts, searching far and wide for someone who it is apparent will never be found, Gaius? Merlin’s murderers have left no trail to follow, no clues, no nothing,”  
  
“Merlin’s _murderers_ , Sire? Are you so sure that he is dead?”  
  
“No, but the court are. They speak of holding a burning ceremony for him, without a body, but with a shroud wrapped full of his belongings that he’ll need in the next life,” Arthur picked at the thread and the low thump thump thump of magic penetrated the room. Gaius felt the pressure of dark magic in his head.  
  
“Sire, what is this?”  
  
“It’s just a piece of thread,” Arthur sighed, picking at it.  
  
“Can I see?”  
  
“It’s just a piece of thread,” Arthur repeated, his eyes clearly confused. Gaius gave him the eyebrow and Arthur took his hands away, pushing it towards the older man.  
Gaius inspected it, slowly, pulling softly and feeling the thrum of magic run through his fingers. This was very powerful indeed.  
  
“Well, if it’s just a piece of thread, you won’t mind me taking it. I ripped my favourite tunic recently and this is just the colour,”  
  
Arthur ran a hand over his face, nodding slowly.  
  
“Yes, fine. Now about Merlin,”  
  
“We double our efforts, of course,” _And we seek out the Great Dragon_ , Gaius’ mind added. _Yes_. Tonight, he would seek out Kilgarrah and tomorrow, he would find Merlin. “Have you thought about entrusting the help of sorcery, Arthur?”  
  
“That was another thing I needed to ask you about,” Arthur sighed, looking lost and defeated.  
  
                                                                                                              ***  
  
Morgana had bound Merlin’s hands and left him on the cold dungeon floor, and hadn’t returned for several days. She’d left him a loaf of moulding bread and a bowl of water that he had to lap at like a dog, and he’d woken up twice to find rats surrounding him.  
  
Whatever spell she had on him before was broken; he could do things to his will now, but his magic burned him to use. He’d tried a simple unbinding spell and had doubled over, crying into his knees.  
  
The pulling at the thread had stopped, recently, and had been replaced by prodding and poking, which left an uncomfortable itch deep in his chest.  
Something had been stroking the thread, which left him with a cramp like feeling in his whole body, furled in on himself as his body reacted to the action.  
  
He was going to die soon and at that moment, his chest heaving as something stroked the thread, he would have welcomed death like an old friend.  
  
                                                                                                          ***  
  
“You must not unravel it,” The Dragon warned, pointing a curled talon at Gaius. “For to do so will kill Merlin instantly,”  
  
Gaius’ eyebrows shot into his hairline. Kilgarrah breathed a spell over Gaius.  
  
They’d find Merlin. Kilgarrah swore it.  
  
“Remember lambs blood, Gaius,” Kilgarrah uttered before taking off to search for Merlin himself.  
  
                                                                                                          ***  
  
Gwen held the lamb steady as Gaius slit its throat and gathered its blood. She grimaced, reminding herself this was all for Merlin. It was necessary to find Merlin.  
  
Gaius held the bowl of lambs blood, muttering part of an incantation, then dropping the thread into the bowl, and repeating it again, following Merlin’s name.  
  
The ground shook for Gaius, his entire body going with it, and his vision clouded with blinding white that caused him to tip his head back.  
  
Gaius’ eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began to convulse --dropping the bowl, which landed without spilling a drop-- falling to the floor. Gwen let go of the lamb and scrambled over to Gaius, who was frothing at the mouth.  
  
“HELP!” She cried, screaming her loudest. “HELP!” She shook Gaius’ body. He began rigid then relaxed. “ _Gaius_?” She whispered, shaking him again, and he stayed unresponsive. Arthur’s men arrived to take Gaius to his chambers.  
  
                                                                                                              ***  
Gaius dreamt. He dreamt the route that the hunting party took and how they met their untimely demise.  
He dreamt of Morgana tying Merlin to the back of her horse and forcing him to walk that distance, half asleep, laughing as he stumbled over. He dreamt the way she took him, and of the ruined castle where Merlin was currently shivering in as rain poured in through holes in the wall and a poor little window.  
  
Gaius took a deep breath and awoke, finding Arthur and Gwen staring down at him in worry. They handed him something to drink and he sat up, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.  
  
Arthur was staring intently, waiting to hear the news, and Gwen was wringing out rags that had been used on Gaius’ fever.  
  
“I know where Merlin is,”  
                                                                                                              ***  
  
Within minutes, Gaius, Arthur and a band of knights were ready to leave. Gwen, wrapped in furs and a shirt that she somehow had acquired from Lancelot, mounted a horse besides Arthur and gave him a warm smile.  
  
“What are you doing, Guinevere?” He asked, looking around. This trip was no place for a woman! Someone could get seriously hurt. Lancelot would never forgive Arthur if Gwen was hurt.  
He’d given her a paper cut by accident once and Arthur was sure Lancelot was giving Arthur the death stare for weeks after!  
  
“I’m coming with you, of course,” She said, her voice leaving no room for arguments. It was times like this when Arthur thought Gwen would make a great Queen, but those days had passed and now he had Merlin.  
Now all he needed was Merlin.  
  
“Of course,” He rolled his eyes, spurring his horse on.  
  
                                                                                                             ***  
  
The pulling stopped and Merlin felt free again. _Is this what death feels like?_  
                                                                                                               
                                                                                                             ***  
  
Death, Merlin thought, felt different to what he imagined.  
  
It involved stages of ragged breathing and shivering only to be too hot moments later. It involved the darkness surrounding him taunting him as he passed in and out of consciousness, without Arthur there to hold him.  
  
He was sure he heard the cry of mandrake and Arthur yelling to him, crying for his help, but Merlin couldn’t move, his body too weak to try.  
He coughed, wracking his body painfully, as Arthur screamed out again and Merlin’s magic couldn’t save him.  
  
Perhaps there was a hell, after all.  
                                                                                                              ***  
  
Gaius led the way, often stopping to pull out the thread in a vile, drenched in lambs blood. _It was left this way, right this, now we need to do a full loop on ourselves over the ridge._  
  
Gwen was by his side the whole time, asking if they were definitely going the right way, helping to create a plan of attack if Morgana had the Saxon’s help again.  
  
Lancelot stared on, proudly, watching Gwen transform from shy serving girl (who had actually been relieved of her duty and given a title when Merlin married the King) to fierce Queen. Lance, too, thought Guinevere would be someone he would rule under indefinitely.  
  
“The dungeons, according to Geoffrey, are around the back, so if Arthur, Gwen and I were to loop round, we could get in through a hole in the foundations quickly,” Leon began, gesturing with his hands. “The rest of the company distract by attacking head on. You do not stop until every last man in slain, is that clear?” He said to the rest of the group. “Gaius, would you stay behind? I know you’re very capable of holding your own, and I don’t doubt that you would run through every single one to get to Merlin, but I can’t risk you being hurt,”  
  
Arthur watched the exchange happen like he wasn’t even there.  
As King, he should be giving these orders, but, he knew Leon was right. Leon was his best friend, his army’s leader, other than himself, and he knew what he was doing.  
  
Arthur’s mind was too full of Merlin.  
  
What if they were too late? What if Arthur had have unravelled the thread? What if Merlin blamed Arthur for his pain? Perhaps Morgana had got to Merlin and Merlin would no longer welcome Arthur.  
Perhaps Morgana and Merlin were devising plans together, now, on the best way to take Camelot.  
Or perhaps Morgana had already taken Camelot with the help of Merlin while the King was absent.  
They had been gone a day and a half, anything could have happened.  
  
He shook his head. Of course Merlin wasn’t doing that.  
Merlin loved him. He wouldn’t be manipulated by magic! Magic was good, Arthur remembered Merlin saying, _Magic was good as long as it’s in the right hands_. And Merlin’s hands were very right.  
He wouldn’t use the power against his King.  
  
“Arthur, it’s going to be alright, I promise,” Gwen smiled, placing her hand on Arthur’s. The affection he felt for her was overwhelming and he suddenly wanted to cry, being hit by the full force of how much it had hurt to miss Merlin.  
  
Arthur gave a queasy grin, tipping his head then taking off to ride closer to Gaius.  
  
“How long now, Gaius?”  
  
“As the crow flies? An hour.”  
  
An hour. Arthur could wait an hour. He could wait another hour to see Merlin. Only, it wouldn’t be an hour. It would be longer, as they were not crows flying, they were on horseback at a crawling speed.  
  
Arthur ordered that they rode faster, faster, faster, almost riding to the point of killing his horse when the ruined castle came into view. Their horses were beginning to protest, tired and hungry, when Gwen suggested they walk the rest of the way. Gaius would look after the horses, and he’d have us a nice hot meal prepared for when they got back.  
  
Gaius watched as the knights, Arthur and Gwen dismounted and strolled through the trees. Once they’d left, Gaius set up two stoves, one boiling rags for any wounds Merlin may have, and the other for food.  
He set up a bed for Merlin and set his equipment by it. He wasn’t sure what state Merlin would be in, and he wasn’t sure if his magic and study of medicine would be enough.  
  
Rags dried over another fire as fresh one were put into the pot along with any surgical equipment he thought he might need. To put dirty equipment into a patients skin would cause a humour imbalance and would surely make matters worse!   
  
He made sure his hands were clean and began to make a broth for the returning company. He wasn’t sure when they’d eat; Merlin could be in perfect health or he could be halfway to the underworld, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.  
  
With his magic, he caught two hares, snapped their necks and began to skin them for the broth, and tried not to think of Merlin in a bad state.  
  
  


Arthur, Gwen and Leon hid behind rocks, sneaking their way into the ruined castle. The men charged, forming a barricade around the ruins in case someone tried to escape, but nobody was there.  
Arthur crept through a hole in the foundations the size of two men and looked around, scared. He held his sword firmly, ready to attack anything that jumped at him.  
  
Nothing did. He crept down a flight of stairs, keeping his back against the ruined walls, and watched as a spider scampered across the floor.  
“Leon, you take left, Gwen, you come with me,” Arthur commanded as they reached a fork in the path.  
  
Arthur and Gwen sneaked through ruined rooms, some crumbled into nothing other than one wall, others only missing one brick. Arthur passed a room with a red x on it and wondered for a moment whether Merlin was behind that door.  
  
 _X marks the spot!_ Morgana used to say when they played silly games where they were adventurer’s, looking for lots and lots of gold.  
  
“Nothing. Just piles of bones,”  
“Bones?” Arthur’s panic wasn’t hidden and he felt his stomach knot. No, please God, no. She wouldn’t. She _couldn’t_.  
  
“It’s not him, I’m sure of it,” Gwen put her hand on his arm, looking him straight in the eye and his panic ceased almost immediately. It wasn’t him.  
If Gwen didn’t think so, then it wasn’t so. “Come on, we’ve got to keep moving,” She pulled him alone, holding her own sword out in front of her, checking both ways before running across into another room.  
  
At the last room, she pulled open the door and screamed as hundreds and hundreds of filthy rats poured out and into the grounds. She looked in and found nothing. Nobody. Merlin was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Except-- Except there was a door in the floor and it couldn’t be, could it?  
  
“Gwen, help me with this door. He might be down here,” Arthur groaned as he tried to shift the weight by himself. It was a heavy, metal door, rather than wood, and Arthur thought it was meant for keeping people out.  
They got the door off and Arthur looked down into the barely lit cellar.  
At least, he thought it was a cellar.  
  
Bracing himself, he lowered in slowly. It was disgusting. The smell made his eyes water and he was nearly sick. Rotting food (… _was that excrement?_ ) had attracted rats which stuffed their faces happily.  
  
When his eyes adjusted to the light, Arthur noticed the body in the far corner, huddled in on itself. He lunged forward, finding the horrible smell was coming from the body.  
  
He felt around, finding it to be stone cold and almost waxy. He dragged it into the light and found that it was Merlin, his face a discoloured purple around the lips. No. It wasn’t possible. This wasn’t possible.  
  
He gripped onto the fouled shirt, sobbing into it, screaming _No!_ over and over again. It wasn’t possible. This wasn’t happening. Merlin wasn’t dead. He wasn’t. He was just sleeping. He was just asleep. He wasn’t _dead_!  
  
“Arthur,” Gwen whispered, voice catching. Somehow she’d lowered herself in and was now attempting to pull Arthur in for a hug. “Arthur, come on, let’s take him outside. We can give him a proper--” She sobbed. “A proper goodbye,”  
  
Wordlessly, Arthur cut Merlin’s bonds and watched as his hands fell limply by his side. Silently, Arthur put his hands around Merlin’s cold body, ready to put him over his shoulders. Merlin’s body made a shuddery breath and Arthur supposed that was natural until Merlin turned his head, painfully, groaning to himself as he did so.  
  
“Arthur?” Merlin spoke, his voice scratchy from misuse. Arthur nodded, tears in his eyes.  
“I’ve got you, it’s alright, I’ve got you,” He cried and Merlin closed his eyes, falling back into a deep sleep. Quickly and carefully, Arthur threw Merlin over his shoulder and began to climb out, thankful for fresh air. Leon stood by the door, lips pressed together. His head was bowed. “Leon, Leon, I need you to run and tell Gaius he’s okay,” Arthur ordered. Leon’s eyes brightened, wide, as he stepped by to let Arthur pass. “Gwen, cover my back. I’m not sure whether we’re alone,”  
  
Briskly, Arthur made his way through the ruins, taking care to watch his feet. Merlin stirred, too weak to move anything but his head, and watched as Gwen’s long hair flowed in the wind. His eyes closed again as he heard Gaius’ amble over, asking about injuries.  
  
                                                                                                           ***  
  
Merlin woke, slowly, in a warm bed with a roaring fire and the shutters drawn closed. The fire crackled and he turned his head in its direction to see Arthur asleep in a chair, arms folded over his middle and worry lines permanently etched into his skin.  
  
 _They weren’t there on the day of the hunt_ , Merlin pondered. This Arthur looked so much older, so much wearier. Dark bags sat under his eyes and his skin seemed paler than before. He remembered, suddenly, what had happened and his heart panged. Merlin’s absence had done this to Arthur.  
  
“Morning,” Arthur grumbled, shifting and rubbing his eyes as he always did when he woke. Merlin turned on his side, ignoring his ribs protests in pain. He wanted to get a good view.  
  
“Good morning,” Merlin sighed. His throat felt a little bit like wool and he coughed, removing the feeling. Arthur got up and crawled into bed, putting his hands on Merlin’s and looking at Merlin. Taking in every feature. Willing him to realise how much Arthur needed him.  
  
Merlin grinned, shifting closer despite his body’s pain.  
  
“Does this mean I’m excused from the next hunt?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. He intertwined his legs with Arthur’s and instantly he felt warmer and a lot more like himself.  
He wiggled his toes into the covers, feeling himself sinking into the covers. He could stay in this bed for the rest of his life, never leaving this room, and he would be completely happy.  
  
Arthur sighed, shaking his head and guffawing a little. Of course Merlin would use their reuniting moment like this.  
Fondly, Arthur smiled: “This means your excused from _every_ hunt, Merlin.” 

**Author's Note:**

> It's weird, I know, I wrote it at 4am after not sleeping for two days (poorly me) and I just for some reason wanted to get it up here. Comments would be appreciated. Thanks.


End file.
